


Fear and Loathing

by charleybradburies



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Announcements, Best Friends, Cell Phones, Community: 1_million_words, Community: femslashagenda, Community: mcufemslash, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, Femslash, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Girls Kissing, Holidays, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, POV Female Character, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pseudo-Incest, Romantic Friendship, Superheroes, Superpower Sex, Superpowers, Thanksgiving, To Be Continued, Unexpected Visitors, Winter, because bisexuals, possibly, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some less-than-great news comes their way.</p>
<p>mcufemslash general prompts table b: #01. apples to oranges.<br/>title from the Marina and the Diamonds song of the same name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear and Loathing

Trish pulls herself up onto one of her barstools - phone clasped anxiously in her hand and left open on the text to Jess even though she’s still thinking about the one from her mother - and buries her head in her crossed arms down on the kitchen counter. She still had a couple minutes until - _crash._

_Crash on the balcony._

She still automatically tenses up at the loud banging near the door, but naturally, as she drops her feet to the floor and starts toeing her way across her living room, it’s Jess that pops up behind one of her plants, black hair unkempt and puffy purple infinity scarf uneven around her neck.

Pout etched on her face, she readjusts herself after standing up; she’s chucking a twig that’s gotten stuck in her hair over the railing when Trish opens the door into her living room.

“You do know there’s a front door, right?” Trish says, her voice leaving her with a lilt that’s implying an amused quality that she’s feeling far more vaguely than it sounds. Jess shrugs. 

“You said S.O.S., I didn’t want to deal with the doorman, I made a compromise.”

Trish chuckles weakly, and pushes the door fully open, letting Jess into the apartment proper; she strides in, arms swinging casually and bringing some of the cold wind with her. 

“So.” She smacks her pale lips and takes a seat on the edge of a couch, looking back up at Trish expectantly. “What am I saving you from?”

Trish takes a deep breath, meeting Jessica’s gaze and shoving the door closed without a glance at it.

“My mother,” she says in the flattest tone she can manage.

Jess laughs. Like, really laughs. Laughs like she thinks Trish is pulling her leg or something...until she realizes that Trish’s expression barely changes.

“Holy fuck, you’re serious.”

Trish nods. “She’s coming to visit.”

Jess scrunches up her nose. 

“Why?”

“Because Thanksgiving, dumbass. And because she’s worried that I’m losing my mind or something.”

“Yeah, well, she would know _all_ about _that._ ”

“Jess!” 

“Sorry, just...stating the truth. Um, what am I supposed to do?”

Trish sighs, nervously brushing her hair back behind her ears. 

“I have...no idea.”

“Well,” Jessica says declaratively, slapping her hands on her knees and standing back up.

“Just...something. Anything, please. I just...feel restless, and scared shitless, and have no idea what to do!”

“Well, first things first, calm the hell down.”

Trish sends her a glare, and Jess meets her eyes.

“She’s not the Devil, Trish. She’s just...a person. A terrible, fucked-up, totally obnoxious person, but a person. Not even a superperson, unless being terrible can be counted as a superpower, in which case we are so _fucked._ ”

“Great pep talk, Jess. Ugh, I’m calling my trainer; I think I need to punch the shit out of something,” Trish decides, turning away and back towards the kitchen.

“It’s Friday night,” Jessica scoffs, and leans so she’s sitting on the arm of the couch...like only she could get away with doing. Trish starts to scroll through her contacts.

“And?” 

“And...it’s the weekend - not exactly work hours; for fuck’s sake, it’s not even daylight.”

“It’s winter. The sun sets at four.”

“And the workday ends at five, which is when normal people say ‘screw this work shit’ and go get their drinks.”

“Yeah, unlike you day-drinkers.”

“Unlike us. It’s not like I have a 9-to-5 schedule anyway. But your trainer…is a fairly normal dude, right?” 

Jess coaxes the phone out of Trish’s hand.

“Leave the poor guy to get wasted at normal hours and intervals. We’ll figure out how to handle this.”

“How, exactly? You’ve said it yourself, you don’t really do the whole “making people feel better” thing.”

“Hey, you’re the one that sent the S.O.S.!” 

Trish rolls her eyes.

“Yes, silly, naive me, thinking that my best friend might actually _help_ me when I desperately need her.”

Jessica crosses her arms, and smirks, squinting like she’s going to pretend to be contemplating her reply even though she’s already made the decision as to what she’s going to say next. 

“So, I admit I don’t have any “comforting” skills. Half the time, I barely have the “people skills” to talk to anyone that’s not you. But...I do have a few pretty stellar ideas about how to make you feel better. You know, if I do say so myself.”

Even on the verge of laughing at Jess’s wide eyes and air quotes, Trish pushes out a sigh, cocking her head expectantly, assuming that Jess will draw it out, practically for the sake of doing so.

“And?”

“And, well, for starters…” Jess continues, then pauses - her voice fading out rather than stopping abruptly - and then, with an unprecedented dearth of teasing and incitement, cups one of Trish’s cheeks with a gentle hand and leans into a kiss; Trish wraps her arms up around Jess’s shoulders and pulls her closer (always the one to do so in their case, as Jessica never wanted Trish to feel out of control without explicitly knowing that’s what she wanted.) 

“Please,” Trish moans lightly, and she finds a comforting warmth in Jess’s bending down and hoisting her up, a warmth specially reserved for her. 

She tightens her legs around Jess’s waist, and effortlessly resigns herself to dealing with her mother _later_.


End file.
